Ryder and Olexei
They were complete opposites. At a young age they formed a bond that no one was able to understand. It was unusual especially, in the mafia. They weren't supposed to trust anyone but, they did.
Olexei was a survivor. He was ruthless...
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"Please....please....let me go" I whispered. A shriveled scream ripped through the air once again causing me to pull my knees closer to my chest. I didn't know what exactly was happening on the other side of the wall but, one thing I was certain of is that I was luckily I wasn't over there. The screams continued on until the person was finally silenced by the sound of a gunshot.
Tears automatically streamed down my face as I counted that to be the fifth death since I was dragged here against my will. It only made me wonder how much longer it would be until I was next. I wanted to go home. For the first time in a long time I actually longed for the places that housed all of my nightmares.
It didn't matter if that was where he was. At this moment I knew that I was better off against him then in this cold, dark room. The unfamiliarity of it made my skin crawl.
"Agh!!!" I screamed as I felt something scurry over my bare feet.
I was unable to see anything which meant I was left to use my imagination on what exactly it was. I just prayed it was bugs and not a rat. The thought of those creatures staring at me through the darkness only added to the dread that began to build in my chest.
In my head I knew I had only been here for a few days but, I was finding it hard to rationalize that with the rest of my thoughts. I was reaching the point where I could feel the walls closing in. The longer I ponder on my inescapable torture, the stronger my anxiety grew. I began to feel like I was drowning in my suffering. Were the rest of days meant to spent in this dark room? Was I meant to experience this kind of pain for the rest of my life? Soon my breath became light and shallow and flight mode kicked in. The need to get out and away was undeniable. I needed to see the light. I needed air.
■■■■■■
"Fuck!" I gasped, my body jolting up from my mattress. Raising my hand to my chest I tried to calm my racing heart. The nightmares may have alternated but, it was always the same reaction every time I woke up. Over the years I had tried to get used to it but, it was difficult.
Staring at my ceiling I tried to steady my breathing. Once able to, I got out of bed and began getting ready for work. Lord only know the amount of cases that would be on my desk by the time I arrived.
Showering was quick and easy. When I stepped out, I came to a halt and stared at myself in the mirror. Disgust took over my face as I glanced over my body. People on tv were constantly telling others to embrace there scars, for they made you stronger. I believed it to be all bullshit. The ones that I had did nothing but, cause me pain and remind me of the people who hurt me.
They were a burden.
Quickly, I did my hair and brushed my teeth as not to look at myself any longer. It would only depress me and my job did that enough already.
